


I’m Coming Home

by gunpowder_and_pearls



Series: What if during the Stanford Era, Dean was a soldier [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coffee Shop, Fluff, History Teacher Castiel (Supernatural), John Winchester’s A+ parenting, Panic Attack, Soldier Dean, Soldier Homecoming, Stanford Era, triggering language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-09-28 06:50:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20421728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gunpowder_and_pearls/pseuds/gunpowder_and_pearls
Summary: Dean’s been overseas for eight years after he enlisted right after high school. Dean and Sam haven’t communicated except in letters, but now Dean comes home for leave. And guess who has no idea.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if I did their characters justice!

Sam hadn’t seen or spoken to Dean in over eight years, letters that were too far and few between to be satisfying, were their only method of reliable communication. And even then, sometimes it would take months for them to arrive.

Christmas was coming and the absence of his big brother was weighing on him, as it did every year. Even when they were kids and their dad was still moving them from place to place, working any odd job he could find, Dean had always made Christmas happen.

One such memorable year, Dean had ended up stealing Christmas presents from a house down the block. It had been a family of six, a couple, three boys and one girl, but Sam still ended up with a Holiday Fairy Barbie and a DIY doll clothes kit. Dean had gotten an amulet, one that had formerly been meant for their absent dad who had probably been spending his Christmas money on one more bottle of Jack Daniel.

Dean had enlisted right out of high school, with the promise from Dad that they would stop moving around, or Dean would take custody of Sam and he would never see either of them again.

And miraculously, it had worked.

Sam and his dad had ended up settling down in Palo Alto of all places. Sam had gotten to go to a high school for more than two months and had gotten his GED. Dean had sent letters when he could, and Sam still had all of them.

All eleven of them.

Now, in his fourth year of college, with the least contact with family that he had ever had, Sam just wanted his big brother back, preferably in one piece.

* * *

Dean had never been more nervous in his life.

He was surrounded by noise, by crowds, by people who were _ civilians. _ Who had families that they got to see everyday, who had _ lives. _Dean, in his thick army fatigues, his heavy duffle on his shoulder, had never felt more out of place.

The twenty-six year old walked through the airport, moving as fast as he could towards his transfer flight. He had gotten all the way to Florida, to _ America _in just fifteen hours.

A body bumped into him and he immediately tensed, hand shooting to his waist where a gun should've been before realizing it was just a red-faced mother, doing what he was doing. Just trying to get home.

He gave her a nod and gripped his bag tighter, pausing for just a moment to reorient himself. _ Okay. So. If I came in that way...The signs back there said that I gotta turn left. Which I did. _He glanced down at the ticket and passport he had been white knuckling the whole way through the airport.

_ So...straight ahead to...C15? But the five looks smeared. What if I’m reading it wrong? What if it was printed wrong? Fuck, what if I messed up at the last airport and I’m not even supposed to be in fucking Florida?! _He let out a hissing breath, trying to get his shuddering breathing under control. There was only so many weird looks he could take.

Pushing through the mass of civilians-_ people _-he shuffled up to what seemed to be a customer service desk that was at each gate. The insufferably cheerful flight attendant who seemed to be a constant at each one, was once again at the desk of C15.

“Uh, hey. I was wondering if this is the right gate?”

The flight attendant, who was blonde this time, leaned forward with a smile. “Well, sir, if I could see your ticket, I can get that information right to yah!”

Dean flinched when she held out her hand and then unfroze, because however nervous he might be, he refused to be jumpy around the living embodiment of rainbows and confetti.

Unfolding his fingers however, was another story. They refused to move. Dean slowly opened his hand, chanting in his mind _ she can’t hurt you, she can’t hurt you _the whole time. It helped that she was about five foot nothin’ and would probably weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet.

After a few seconds of bright pink nails clicking on a keyboard, which were the most stressful seconds of his life, as far as he could remember at the moment, she turned to him with a bright smile.

“Yes sir, this _ is _your flight. Thank you for flying with us and have a great day!” She somehow managed to deliver the same line she had given everyone with unfailable cheerfulness.

“Thanks…” He glanced at her name tag. “...Becky.”

Stuffing his ticket back into his pocket, he turned stiffly to the rows of chairs filling the gate. _ And not a single one is open that I can see the room in. Just fan-fucking-tastic. _

He settled for standing with his back against the window, squeezing in between two other passengers, a disgruntled teenager who looked like they needed about fifty more hours of sleep and an older woman who had been sneering at him down her nose since he had first walked into the gate. He was almost worried her face might get stuck like that.

Almost.

Dean had been standing at parade rest for almost fifteen minutes when the woman finally said something to him.

“All you soldiers think you're entitled to everything you want, free education and health care benefits that the rest of us don’t even get a chance at! You should be ashamed of yourself.”

The green eyed man glanced down at her, praying that his voice wouldn’t shake. “Lady, I don't even know you. So I don’t care what you think. Thanks for your lovely opinion, though.” He tossed her a sarcastic smile and went back to watching the TV conveniently located on the complete opposite side of the room.

She sniffed haughtily and even though Dean wasn’t looking at her, he could _ feel _her narrowed eyes pinned on him. “You didn’t even know those people you killed, did you? Do you even remember what they looked like? They probably had families that were waiting for them to come back home, and you ju-”

She continued talking but Dean couldn’t hear her over the noise in his head. _ She’s right, you know? All those people you killed, how many of them had wives, husbands, mothers and fathers. How many had kids who had to be told they were never coming home? _ Dean had already tortured himself with these thoughts nightly, but there hadn’t been one time when they weren’t true. _ You really are a monster. _

“-hat about the civilians who have gotten hurt in the process?” The woman was still berating him, venom in her voice. “Do you have any idea how many people have died from your hand? In fact-”

“Hey, why don’t you just stop talking, huh? No one appreciates it, certainly not this young man, and certainly not the rest of us.” An older woman, dressed comfortably in jeans and a dark tank-top had stood, her arms crossed over her chest and eyes narrowed.

“What, are you a murderer like this man here? Do you have innocent blood on your hands too?” The shrew-faced woman on his left snapped.

The other woman turned to Dean, ignoring the major bitch who was currently looking like she was about to start frothing at the mouth. “Hey honey, you wanna come sit by me? I’m over there, by the window. You can see just about everyone.” She gestured with one hand, a small smile on her lips.

Dean pulled up his most charming smile, and hitched his duffle bag more securely onto his shoulder. “Sure, that’d be great.” _ If anything, I won’t be next to Queen Bitch here. _

He followed the woman over to a pair of seats that had their backs against the windows, giving a clear view of everyone if he turned his head, even letting him see people passing by on their way to the bathroom.

The woman introduced herself, _ Pamela Barnes, Navy, he’d have to remember that, _and they quickly fell into conversation, talking about anything and everything under the sun, from politics to good books they had recently read.

Before Dean knew it, the rest of the gate had filled up, the noise level growing by the minute. He glanced at the clock. _ Shit. Shitshitshit. _ He struggled to get his breathing under control. _ Oh fucking shit, only five more minutes until boarding, oh god I can’t ever get used to this. _ Being trapped in a flying metal canister that with or without wings, did _ not _look like it could fly, was not his favorite way of traveling.

“Hey kid, you doing okay?” Pamela was looking up at him, concern on her face as she eyes his white-knuckled grip on his bag.

“Yeah...just not the biggest fan of flying.” _ Oh god, he was gonna _ fly _ from Florida to fucking California in a goddamn death trap. They would crash and he would fucking die. Humans aren’t meant to fly, goddamnit, why do you think we don’t have wings! _

“It’ll be over before you know it, alright? Where’s your seat?”

“Uh…” He dug out the crumpled ticket from his pocket. “Row eight, seat B?”

“Damn! I’m a few rows behind you, so just remember that if you need someone to talk to, okay? I remember what coming home on leave was like. Overwhelming, yeah?”

Dean nodded shakily, feeling his panic retreat as she spoke to him.

“How long have you been gone since your last leave?”

“Actually, this is my first time home in eight years. Me and my unit haven’t been able to come home for a while.”

“Oh honey, that’s terrible. You got someone you’re coming home to?”

“Yeah, my baby brother and my dad. Sam is all grown up and in college now. I thought I might surprise him at his apartment. My dad...I don’t think I’ll visit him. We’ll see.”

Pamela nodded sympathetically. “I understand. Some of my relatives were like that too. Just not worth talkin’ to.” She opened her mouth to continue but the intercom interrupted them.

“Seats rows one through ten, now boarding. Seats rows one through ten now boarding.”

Dean froze. _ Crap. _“That’s me.”

“Good luck Dean. I’m sure Sam will be real excited to see you, okay? Just think of him on the flight back.”

The soldier nodded and stood slowly. “Thanks. For all of that.”

Pamela smiled and waved her hand at him. “Yeah, yeah. Now quit stallin’ and go get in line.”

The flight couldn’t have gone slower. With Queen Bitch only a few seats away and his thoughts agreeing with everything she muttered, he had almost begun praying for the plane to crash. _ But if that happens, Sam will drag me back outta hell just to kill me for not making it to his goddamn apartment for Christmas, even if he doesn’t know that I’m coming. _

Dean dug in his bag, blocking out the sound of Queen Bitch’s quiet ranting as he pulled out his earbuds and walkman. _ Damn, how is this still holding together? Nine long-ass years and not broken! _

Stuffing the earbuds in his ears, AC/DC blaring from the tinny speakers, he settled back into his seat, closing his eyes as the introduction to Back In Black began to play.

  


As the plane rumbled its way down the tarmac, Dean began to cram his walkman bag into his duffle, resurfacing with a flip-phone clutched in one hand. _ God, I hope Sammy hasn’t moved or this is gonna be embarrassing. _

People at the front of the plane began to stand and shuffle off, Dean following quickly. _ No matter how many times I fly, recycled air never gets any better. _

He stepped off the plane and began to shoulder his way through the crowd, not caring about touching other people as much as he wanted to get out of the crushing _ amount _of civilians that seemed to be doing their best to block his way. He knew they weren’t, in the back of his mind, but he had never wanted to breath fresh air then he did right now.

The automatic doors slid open with a hiss and Dean hurried his way through, only pausing to help a woman who had stumbled.

“Oh! Thank you!” She fluttered her eyelashes up at him, and any other day Dean might’ve taken the offer, she was _ exactly _his type, but he needed to get home, he needed to see Sammy.

“Yeah, no problem.” He nodded and turned away, ignoring the once over she gave him, and headed to the curb lined with cabs.

As he was approaching one, the driver hopped out and opened the passenger seat. “Hello Sir! Can I get your bag?”

Dean glanced at the suddenly pitiful looking duffle that held all his belonging sin it and shook his head. “No, I’m okay. I’ll just keep it by my feet, if that’s alright?”

“Of course!” The cabbie nodded and headed back to his side of the car, giving Dean a smile as he slid in. “Destination?”

“Uh...Palo Alto, Rains Apartments, Building four.”

The man nodded again and smiled. “If I may, I would like to thank you for your service. It is people like you that keep my family safe.”

Dean glanced at him in question.

“My family and I are refugees from Afghanistan. We fled here with American soldiers protecting us the whole way.”

“Oh.” _ Goddamnit, why does my cab driver have to be so goddamn nice? _“I...thank you.”

“No, thank you!”

The rest of the drive passed in silence, only occasional questions being passed back and forth. Dean was just beginning to relax in the comfortable seat when they pulled to a stop.

“We’re here, Sir. Have a good time!”

“Thanks.” Dean patted his pockets, wondering _ where in the hell did I put my wallet? _“How much do I owe you?”

“No charge!” The soldier opened his mouth to protest but he held up a hand. “No, no charge. Nothing could pay those who saved my family, so let me do this.”

“I-okay.” Popping the door open, he slung his bag over his shoulder and nodded to the driver. “Again, thank you.”

He squared his shoulders and turned to the building that suddenly became ten times as intimidating. _ Come on! You’ve faced death and bullets and explosions but can’t face a fucking college student or two? _ Dean strode toward the doors just in time to catch one as it was closing. He _ really _didn’t want to have to ask someone to open it for him.

The hallway inside was no less disconcerting. There was too much _ silence. _ Not that Dean missed the sound of gunfire or his heart jumping into his throat, but the silence was making him edgy. Forgoing the elevator, because there was _ no way _he was getting into a moving metal box for the second time in one day, he began to climb the stairwell, ducking his head as a few students passed.

A crumpled envelope in his hand, the only one that had survived the war, he slipped into the third floor. _ Apparently his little brother could afford a room in an expensive ass dorm room, but come on Sammy! Third floor? For what, the fucking view? I don’t want to have to climb a million stairs, because by the end of it, I’m not gonna be happy anymore. _

Which was a lie, but still. Who the fuck had designed this building? _ Okay, get yourself together, Dean. Room what, 308, right? I better not fuck up and surprise some poor fucker who would just rather be sleeping than dealing with me. _

Faster than he would’ve liked, he found himself in front of a wooden door, it’s _ stupid _ shining plaque proclaiming in the living place of one Sam Winchester. _ Fuck. _

Dean took a deep breath, feeling it stuttering it’s way in and out of him, and raised a shaking hand to knock on the door.

* * *

Sam’s POV

Sam was slumped on the couch nursing a mug of coffee that had long gone cold. His friends were scattered around him, eyes glued to the screen as some stupid Christmas movie played. It was about some reindeer that felt left out by everyone else and Sam couldn’t care less. He was debating just pleading tiredness and retreating to the room that he shared with Lucifer (who went by Luke), but a knock sounded on the door before he could so much as shift.

“I got it!” Jo scrambled to her feet, wiggling her way out from under Jess’ arm.

_ Wonder who that is? If they ordered more food I swear to god, I’ll kill them. _He sucked in a sharp breath. No doubt Dean wouldn’t even be able to send a letter for Christmas. He definitely wouldn’t be able to eat some fucking traditional Christmas food. Sam would give anything for a phone call.

His friends knew next to nothing about his family. Once, they had gotten him drunk and questioned him, but all they got out of him was that his dad was an abusive bastard, he had an older brother named Dean, and Dean always protected him, even after he had enlisted.

He directed his attention back to the TV screen but turned when Jo’s voice rang through the apartment. “Who are you?”

A deep voice responded. “Sorry...I’m looking for a Sam Winchester? Can you tell me where he lives? He used to live here.”

_ Oh god no. Please, no. Please don’t let him be dead. Nononono. _He stood on shaky legs, ignoring the looks as he stumbled over to the door. “Yeah?” He stared at his feet.

He heard a shuddering intake of breath and glanced up. And stared. “D-Dean…?”

His brother gave him a weak smile. “Hiya Sammy.”

“Oh god. I-I though you must’ve been dead. I heard your voice and I thought they had come to give me a condolence letter and a fucking flag. Yo-You asshole! You couldn’t have called ahead?” He gave up and wrapped his arms around Dean, burying his face in his older brother’s shoulder.

He could feel tears making their way down his face but couldn’t bring himself to care. He tightened his arms around Dean. He was back for the first time in _ years, _ there was no way Sam was letting go. _ Oh thank god, thank you thank you thank you. _ He had always had the thought of _ what if he never comes home? What if there isn’t even a body? What if there was, but it was missing some pieces? _ He breathed in deeply, absorbing the smell of the airport, of faint smoke, and under it, the smell of _ Dean. _ Woodsmoke, leather and metal. _ Home. _

A throat cleared behind him and he forced himself to straighten and unwind his arms from around his brother. “Dean, these are my roommates.” He pointed to each of them in turn. “Jess, Jo, and Lucifer. Lucifer goes by Luke, though. Guys, this is my brother Dean.”

It was silent for a moment and Sam could feel Dean shifting behind him, but then his friends broke into massive smiles.

“_ The _Dean Winchester? Older brother of Sam here?” Luke was gaping as Sam’s words registered. “That badass brother who protected you from your dad?”

Sam flinched at the mention of his dad-_John, it’s John-_ and glanced to his older brother. Dean hesitated, holding back a flinch, before grinning and stuck his hand out. “In the flesh.” He winked at Luke and turned back to Sam. “I see they’ve been told about our family?” 

Sam shrugged, brushing his hair out of his face. “They got me drunk.”

“Aww, you lightweight. How many did it take? Two?”

Sam smirked at his brother’s good natured ribbing. “Six, actually. I inherited something useful, I guess.”

Dean grinned and dropped his duffle bag by the door. “I smell coffee. Can I get some of that?”

“Uh…” Luke smiled awkwardly. “We drank the last of it awhile ago, Sam here is just taking forever to drink his.”

“Oh, okay.”

Sam couldn’t take the disappointment on his older brother’s face. “Yeah but our coffee kiinda sucks anyway. There’s this cool coffee shop on the edge of campus, Tall, Dark and Delicious or something like that. We could go there!”

Dean’s lips spread into a smile again and his eyes lit up. “Awesome. I’ll just go change, then?”

“Uh, yeah sure!” Sam gestured down the hallway. “Second door on the right is the bathroom if you wanna change there.”

Dean nodded and scooped his duffle bag back up, following Sam’s instructions. He had just closed the bathroom door behind him when Sam’s friends began to speak.

* * *

“What the hell? Did you know he was even gonna get to come home?” Luke crossed his arms, eyes flicking between the bathroom door and Sam.

“Are you doing okay? Do you guys want some time just to yourselves?” Jess asked, concern all over her face.

Jo cleared her throat and everyone paused for a moment. “Hey, you know who works at Tall, Dark and Delicious even on breaks? Castiel. You know who is exactly his type? Dean.”

Sam groaned, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling. _ How are these my friends? _“We aren’t playing matchmaker for my brother, okay? One, I don’t even know if he would be okay with liking a guy. I mean, things have happened in the past, but my dad was a dick about shit like this. And two, not many people want to get into a relationship with a soldier.”

“Aw, but they’d look so cute toge-”

“Jo. I’m not gonna do this to my brother. If shit happens, then it happens, but we aren’t forcing it, got it?”

The blonde rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

“I swear to God, Jo-”

“Okay, okay, I won’t do anything.”

The room was silent, no one wanting to say anything else that might upset Sam. At least, until Dean stepped out of the bathroom.

“Sammy, I’ve only got one question for you. And maybe your roommates. Why the _ fuck _do you have a goddamn shower curtain of Rapunzel and What’s-his-face in your bathroom?”

Sam flushed and glanced at his feet, ignoring the snickers from his friends. “Well...it’s an inside joke, I guess. They all think I look like Flynn Ryder, and so after a vote, we bought that.”

Dean chuckled, running his hand through his hair. “I can see it, I can see it.”

“Dean!”

“I’m kiddin’, Sammy. Kinda.”

“Dean.” Sam glared at his older brother, trying to stop his lips from twitching.

“What? Bitch.”

Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Jerk.”

“Okay, enough with the chick flick moments, alright? Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had real coffee? Almost eight goddamn years. So let’s go!” Dean grinned at the group and waved towards the door. “Lead the way.”

Sam shook his head as he opened the door, his friends following. “You love chick flick moments.”

“Yeah...I do.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who is this person updating only a day after??? Sorry, this won’t be happening too often but I just finished chapter 2!

* * *

Dean’s POV

Dean couldn’t believe Sam’s friends.  _ How the hell does he meet people like this? What, I gotta make friends with all the dicks but he gets some sweetheart, a dude who is far too adorable and snarky to be real, and some hot chick who’s in love with him, but he can’t even see it? Damn. _

The group of five had only made it a block out of the three they would have to walk, before Luke and Jo had the great idea of singing. It was some god awful song that had them breaking into giggles before they could get more than a line out.

Sam turned around from where he was walking next to Jess. “Stairway to Heaven? Really? You two are terrible.” He looked to Dean. “Luke’s dad and mom are really religious, so all his siblings have Bible names too. He got the short straw.”

Luke tossed his hands in the air. “I’m the oldest! Is it really that hard to not name your first son after the fucking devil?” 

Dean let a low whistle slip out. “Damn. What'd your other siblings get?”

“The youngest is Anna, then Castiel, then Gabriel who insists he’s better at pranks than me, and second oldest is Michael. And you know who I get? Fucking Lucifer. I’d rather be Uriel or just something human. You know, like Abraham or Noah. Hell, I’d even take goddamn Moses!”

“Hey!” Jo spun on Luke, waving a finger in his face. “We don’t fucking cuss in this goddamn house that the Lord watches over, got that you motherfucker?”

“Idiots,” Sam muttered. 

Dean grinned, the thought of not fitting in among a bunch of smart-ass college kids slowly fading. “Wow, I see college education has really taken you guys far. You all sound  _ very  _ intelligent.”

“Shut up, Dean!” Sam smiled at his brother. 

“Hey! How dare you speak to your elders like tha-”

“Keep talkin’ and I’m not treating you to coffee or pie at Tall, Dark and Delicious.”

_ Pie?  _ Dean nodded quickly, miming zipping and locking his lips shut and tossing the key behind him. 

By some miracle, they had finally made it to the coffee shop, and Dean could already taste the pie. The inside of the shop looked like a hybrid of a bakery and a high tech coffee shop, huge ovens behind the counter with towering shelves of pastries being displayed, as well as two large coffee pots that had spigots on them for when you poured the coffee.  _ Damn, this looks like my kind of place.  _

A small man was manning the register, flour almost completely covering his apron and what looked like pink frosting in his hair. He glanced up as the group approached the counter. “Hey there, Moose. Back again so soon?”

“Hey Gabriel.” Sam smiled and pointed at Dean. “Actually, my brother is visiting for a bit, so I thought I’d take him somewhere to get some half-decent pie.”

“Half-decent? Sam Winchester, get out of my shop.”

A gravelly voice from the back interrupted their conversation. “One, it’s not your shop. Two, the customers should probably order before we close.” 

Gabriel smirked. “Don’t mind my little bro, he’s just grumpy that he has to frost a cake. What can I get yah? I know the usual, two large black coffees, one american cappuccino and one iced black tea with no sweetener. However,” he leaned forward to see Dean more clearly. “I don’t know your order. What can I get you, Dean-o?”

“Uh, just a large black coffee and...what kind of pie do you guys have?” 

“Just take a look.” Gabriel waved towards one of the - _ insanely delicious looking-  _ display cases.  _ Damn. They have everything. Fuck.  _

He hesitated, then pointed to a mostly untouched pie. “A slice of cherry pie.”

Sam stepped forward. “Two, actually. One plate though.” Dean raised his eyebrows at Sam and Sam shrugged. “What? You probably haven’t had a decent pie in years so I don’t think just one slice is gonna cut it.”

“Fine.”

Sam herded them off to a pair of table after he paid, pushing them together so they could all sit. 

Sam’s friends began to chatter, going on and on about textbooks and petty classmates and  _ god Dean couldn’t take it.  _ They were just so ignorant. Getting pissed at other students for saying some mean shit or bemoaning the price of Starbucks’ new drink when Dean had had to  _ kill people.  _

The instant the thought had fully formed, Dean felt guilty for even thinking it. He had chosen to be a soldier, he knew what came with it. He had no right to criticize Sam’s friends, he didn’t know what they might have gone through in their lives already.  _ Fuck, I’m already messing up and it’s only my first real day with civilians. Jesus, how am I ever gonna come home if I can’t even do one day? _

He was pulled out of his thoughts at the sound of someone approaching. They set down their coffees and turned to Dean, placing the plate of pie down gently. Dean glanced up, opening his mouth to say ‘Thank you’ when he froze.  _ Holy motherfucking shit.  _ The man standing in front of him had to be an angel or something, there was no way he was just  _ that  _ hot. The man had windswept black hair,  _ sex hair  _ his mind said, bright blue eyes, and a jawline that paired with those cheekbones of his, could melt any self-respecting human being. 

“Damn,” he muttered, then straightened up. “Hi, I’m Dean, Sammy’s big brother.” He extended a hand. 

“Hello, I am Castiel. I have heard much about you.” He shook Dean’s hand and Dean couldn’t help but feel his crush grow just a bit more at the sound of Castiel’s voice. 

“All good things, I hope.” He flashed his most charming smile and watched a tiny blush rise to Castiel’s cheeks.  _ Wonder how far I can get that blush to go.  _

“Of course.” Castiel smiled and Dean probably would have had to sit down if he wasn’t already.  _ Seriously, how is anyone this hot?  _

“You’ve heard a lot about him? I haven’t even spoken to you about him!” Sam frowned, his eyebrows creased in the middle. 

“Sam, Gabriel is a terrible gossip. You should know better than to tell him anything, really,” Castiel said, admonishing Sam. Then he turned back to the soldier sitting near him. “I hope you enjoy your pie, Dean.”

“I-yeah, thanks.” 

Dean waited until Castiel was safely behind the counter before turning to Luke. “ _ That’s  _ Castiel? And Gabriel, he’s the one who looks like he exploded a cake on himself?”

“Yep, that’s them.”

“But how the fuck do they run a coffee shop? Aren’t they a little young?”  _ And Castiel could be making a fortune as a model for literally  _ anything.  _ I would give anything if he was an underwear model,  _ he added silently.

“Gabe never went to college. He’s super smart and Dad is hella rich, so I guess to compensate for never being around, he bought Gabe the building and help pay for the construction and equipment. Castiel is a huge nerd, he’s trying to be a history professor at Stanford. Right now, he’s a teaching assistant. I think he has to do that for like four years or something, if he wants to get a job at a college. He works here part time, breaks mostly and Saturdays.” He grinned slyly at Dean. “Why, you interested?”

Dean felt himself beginning to flush, but held it back to his ears. “Nah, just curious. Why, you inviting?”

Luke shook his head quickly. “No, you are far too old for me!”

“Luke, he’s two years younger than you,” Sam interjected.

“Yeah, but look at his eyes! He is world weary, you can see it.”

Dean shrugged. “I might be younger, but I am still miles ahead of your maturity.”

“Exactly! You tell ‘em Dean.”

The green-eyed man smiled, fixing his attention on the two slices of pure deliciousness in front of him. He dug his fork into the pastry and took his first bite. And couldn’t help but  _ moan  _ at the taste. “Damn, Sam. They really know what they’re doing here.”

“I know right? Try the coffee.”

Dean eyed his cup doubtfully. It wasn’t that he didn’t worship coffee, but he hadn’t had real coffee since highschool. The military had been full of powdered coffee, if even that. Taking a small sip, he regretted not buying a coffee at the airport.  _ God, I have missed real food.  _

“Holy shit. I think this is my new favorite place.”

“Dean, when did you ever have a first favorite place?”

The older brother smirked. “Last year of highschool, Lisa’s bedroom.”

Sam groaned. “Dean, no one needs to hear that. Really, I swear.”

“Lisa liked it when I said that.”

“Dean.”

“Fuck you.”

Sam eyed his brother for a moment before speaking. “So, why’d it take you so long to get your first leave?”

Dean froze, clenching the coffee cup in his hand.  _ Damnit, Sammy.  _ “It was just normal shit in the beginning...after a couple years, when we would’ve gotten to go home for a visit, we got sent on a pretty important mission. Not your normal assignment, not normal soldiers. We got stuck and we...we were stuck out there for six years, just ransacking bases and stocking up on ammunition and rations for our next target.” He shrugged. “It was alright, I learned how to play poker without seeing, so that was cool.”

“Dean...I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.” Then Sam sucked in a sharp breath. “Without seeing?”

“Uh yeah…” Dean let out a weak chuckle. “Funny thing, so you know grenades right? Well, if you watched the explosion directly from pretty close range, shit happens.”

Sam opened his mouth,  _ probably to ask another dumbass question,  _ but Dean turned back to Luke. “Hey, sorry if this is a personal question but uh...how straight exactly is Castiel?”

Luke grinned. “As straight as the gayest person I’ve ever met can be.”

“Cool, cool.” Dean nodded to himself, glancing over to the black-haired man who was now restocking one of the shelves.  _ I swear, those pants are out to get me.  _ “I’ll be right back.”

The rest of the group nodded and he began to make his way over to Castiel, ignoring the  _ ‘Go get ‘em, tiger!’  _ that followed him from Jo. 

“Hey uh…”

Castiel turned to face him.  _ Fuck.  _ The white button down shirt that the man was wearing illuminated the muscles in his arms and shoulders that would’ve otherwise gone unnoticed, and with its sleeves rolled up, exposing Castiel’s forearms, Dean felt like he was already sinning.  _ Not sinning, shut the fuck up,  _ he shouted to the voice in the back of his head, the voice that sounded suspiciously like his dad. 

“Hello Dean.”

_ Fuck,  _ he thought again. “So...I was wondering if I could get your number, maybe we could go out for coffee sometime?” He ducked his head, cheeks heating up. “Probably not coffee, you work at a coffee shop an’ all and… god, I’m bad at this.”

“Are you asking me out on a date?” The bewildered look in Castiel’s eyes almost made him deny everything and just walk away, keeping the embarrassment to a bare minimum.  _ However, he is blushing even more than before. That is a definite plus. _

“I-yeah.”

“Then, of course Dean. That would be wonderful.”

Dean’s head snapped up.  _ Oh thank fuck.  _ “Really? Awesome.”

“Here, I will give you my number.” Castiel whipped out a pen from what seemed to be a bottomless pocket in his apron and quickly scrawled it up Dean’s arm. “Call me.”

“I will.” Dean flashed a cheeky grin. “Thanks Cas.”

“Cas?”

“A nickname. I give nicknames. Bite me.” 

Cas leaned forward, a glint in his eyes. “Maybe later,” he whispered, then backed up like nothing had happened. “See you!” 

Dean stood there and watched Cas head into the back room, unable to move from the spot.  _ Holy fuck.  _

_ Damn.  _ He had already fallen pretty hard for Castiel. 

“Dean?”

_ Who gives a shit about what my dad thinks. He is  _ too  _ hot to turn down.  _

“Dean.” A hand wrapped around his shoulder and Dean spun, wrenching the hand up and away, spinning whoever had grabbed him around and pinning him to a table. 

“Dean, it's me!”

_ Oh god.  _ Dean backed up immediately, hands limp at his sides. “Shit, Sammy. I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention...Did I hurt you?”

Sam straightened up, his face open and concerned. “I’m okay Dean. It’s okay. You wanna go sit down?”

_ Jesus, I’m a mess. He doesn’t deserve to deal with me.  _ “Yeah, okay. I…”

“I know.” Sam reached out slowly, gently gripping Dean’s shoulder. “We’re all still sitting over here ‘cause Luke takes literally forever to drink coffee.  _ And  _ he refuses to walk and drink it at the same time.”

The older brother felt the tension loosen in his frame as Sam teased his friend. “What, and you’re much better?” They both ignored the waiver in his voice. “When we were kids when you’d get a donut, you’d pick off every single sprinkle, remember? No matter how pissed Dad got, you  _ had  _ to have the sprinkles separately.”

“Yeah, but that was when I was a kid,” Sam insisted as they neared their table. “I don’t do that anymore.”

“Uhuh. Sure you don’t.”

“I don’t!”

“Alright, have it your way College Boy.”

They slid into their seats and Dean grinned again as he turned to Jo. “Since I am here, I’d like to fulfill my civic duty and be an official big brother. Embarrassing stories.”

“Dean!” Sam whirled towards his brother. 

Dean ignored Sam. “Have you ever seen him around a clown?”

Sam groaned and dropped his head into his hands. 

“When we were kids he went to this daycare sort of thing, and it was themed after clowns. Apparently that’s where it all started. Now, we were living in an apartment one time and it was Halloween.”

“Come on, please?”  _ Sammy’s trying to bargain. Haha, never.  _

“So we’ve got our light on, you know, to show that we’ve got candy. And the doorbell rings while I’m busy in the kitchen, so Sam goes to answer it. And freezes.”

Luke cackled. “Sam, I am so getting you this year.”

Dean glanced over Sam to see his face bright red. “It was this five year old kid dressed up as a clown and I had to maneuver Sam to face away from him before he would even breathe.” He chuckled. “Now I have made it my priority to freak him out once a year.” 

Sam glared at Dean and jumped up. “Hey, would you look at that! Luke finished his coffee, time to go.” He grabbed Jessica’s and Jo’s hands and began to herd them out the door. 

“Aw, but we just got here.” Luke stood and stretched, making a mocking pouty face.

“Shut up Luke.” 

Dean chuckled at his brother’s frantic face. “Alright, alright. No more wholesome childhood stories, I get it.” He raised his hands in surrender. “Until next time.”

“Dean,” Sam growled. 

“Okay! I’m comin’, I’m comin’.”

* * *

After Sam managed to get everyone back inside their dorm and away from the topic of childhood stories, his dorm mates began to leave, throwing excuses behind them as they walked out. 

Luke was the last to leave, tossing finger guns to Dean as he left. “I’m looking forward to hearing some more stories when I’m back! ...from whatever I’m gonna go do now.” The door clicked shut behind him. 

_ Very subtle of them.  _ Dean glanced at Sam, who was slouched on the couch. “So?”

Sam straightened. “What?”

_ Come on, don’t make me say it.  _ “I know you’ve got questions, why aren’t you asking me any?”

Sam sighed. “Dean...I’m damn curious but you don’t want to talk and I’m not gonna ask.”

Dean turned back to fiddling with his hands.  _ If only I had my gun. I could go down to the range and just...let it all out.  _ “When we got stuck out there…” Dean watched Sam turn towards him in his peripheral vision. “I...I didn’t think we’d get back. And I was okay with it.”

“Dean.”

“With all those civilians I had killed, all that innocent blood on my hands...I felt it was justice.”

“No, Dean of cour-”

“Shut up Sam. I gotta get this all out before I can’t. I…I watched a kid half my age get shot in the forehead by one of my bullets. I watched half my unit crumple around me ‘cause they didn’t hit the ground fast enough. Benny...my unit leader...he took a bullet for me, first year out there after we got stuck. He didn’t die but it was damn close.” Dean let out a shuddering breath.  _ God, this is harder than I thought.  _ “...being stuck out there…it was hell. When we killed other soldiers we’d raid their supplies just to have something to eat. We were  _ hunting  _ people,  _ people,  _ Sammy! For rations. I don’t think I can come back from that.”

Sam studied Dean’s face and Dean shifted in his chair. He felt like a bug under a microscope. “Dean, you did what you needed to do to survive. I’m sure that anybody else out there would’ve done the same. You were trying to get home, so you did what had to be done to come back.”

“But I almost didn-”

The door swung open, slamming against the wall and bouncing off, nearly knocking Jo and Luke to the floor.  _ Intruder! Get down!  _ Dean leaped off the couch, tackling Sam to the ground and covering him as much as he could. 

Sam yelped and threw his arms around his head, landing curled up underneath Dean. 

“Oooh shit.” Jo swayed in the doorway. “Luke,” she called, drawing out the middle vowel. “I think we scared Dean.”

“Aw, it’s okay Dean.” Luke stumbled back into the living room, cheeks flushed. “We didn’ mean to.”

Dean shuddered from above Sam.  _ Shit shit shit shit. I’m making myself look like an idiot. God fucking damnit.  _ He pulled himself up, making himself not reach for anything that could be a weapon.  _ You are safe, they are civilians, they are drunk civilians, they couldn’t hurt you if they tried.  _ Although Sam could be an intimidating figure, he knew he could take him down in a fight. 

“Hey, it’s all good.” Dean pulled on his best smile. “Just startled me, is all. I’m fine, Sammy’s fine. Right Sammy?”

“Y-Yeah. I’m good.” Sam was eyeing Dean in a way he didn’t like. Like he was  _ assessing  _ him. 

“Cool. I’m gonna head down to a motel, if that’s alright with you. I’ve got a week off, I’d like to make the most of it.” 

“Dean, wait!”

Dean ducked out the door, pulling it shut behind him. He paused, leaning against it.  _ Thank fuck. I needed to get out of there.  _ He let out a shuddering breath and strode off, bag in hand. 

* * *

_ No, not yet!  _ Sam lunged for the door but it had already swung shut. 

_ Fuck.  _ He shakily sighed, resting his head against the wood of the door. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it’s been a bit since I updated. Trigger warning, offensive homophobic language in this chapter. I feel like shit just for writing it but if I didn’t this wouldn’t be realistic. If it triggers you, I’m so sorry!

Dean slumped against the pillows, phone clutched in his hand.  _ Sammy’s got to be worried by now. But why should he have to deal with me?  _ He buried his head in his hands.  _ I’m just his fuck-up of a brother who had to join the army so he could help his little brother pay for college.  _

He eyed the phone and unlocked it, automatically dialing a number before he realized it was Sam’s.  _ Damnit, I can’t call him.  _

His thoughts jumped back to a certain gorgeous black-haired, blue eyed angel. He smiled and quickly typed in the numbers scribbled on his arm, shifting back and forth- _ not nervously, why would he be nervous? He just doesn’t like phone calls.  _ The phone buzzed once, twice, in his hand before a click sounded over the line. 

“Hello?” 

_ God, he even has a sex voice over the phone.  _

“Uh...hey, it’s Dean.”

“Oh, hello Dean. How are you doing?”

The green-eyed man fiddled with the edge of his shirt. “I-I’m good. Hey, are you busy today?”

He could hear the smile in Cas’ voice as he responded. “No.”

“Oh! Great...would you like to meet up for coffee or lunch...or somethin’?”

“Yes, that would be wonderful, Dean.”

Dean grinned to himself.  _ Oh thank fucking jesus.  _ “Cool. I’ll pick you up in an hour or so?”

“Yes, that sounds good. I will be at home, I will give you my address.”

Dean nodded and then grimaced.  _ You’re on the phone, you idiot.  _ “Yeah, okay.” 

Castiel rattled it off, pausing to make sure that the soldier had gotten it all down. “I will see you at one?”

“Right! Yeah, see you.” 

The click of Cas hanging up knocked Dean out of his stupor and he glanced to his duffle bag.  _ I have a date with a goddamned angel and I have...what? Army t-shirts, jeans and flannels to wear. Fuck. _

He finally settled on his least ratty pair of jeans and his newest flannel- _ only three years old _ -pulled over his nicest t-shirt, which meant no blood or sweat stains.  _ Really gonna impress Cas lookin’ like this,  _ he thought sarcastically as he stood in front of the mirror. 

With one lightbulb flickering and the other one completely out, Dean ran a critical eye over himself.  _ God, I’m a mess.  _ He ran a hand through his hair, pulling the messy strands into place and out of his eyes. 

After scooping up the beat-up leather jacket he had thrown haphazardly on the ground, he straightened his flannel one last time and ducked out the door, shoving his keys and wallet into a back pocket as he walked.

* * *

The rumbling of the Impala, accompanied by the blaring of AC/DC was doing its very best to drown out Dean’s thoughts but they just weren’t enough.

_ Castiel is trying to be a fucking teacher! I’m a soldier, I’ve killed people, I’ve looked into people’s eyes and shot them right between them. Why does he want anything to do with me?  _ His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel.  _ This was a mistake. God, I’m so disgusting. I can’t even fucking pick a gender to like.  _

The voices in his head were so loud that he almost drove right by Castiel’s house.  _ Shit. It’s even got a goddamn white picket fence. I can’t bring my problems into his life, even for a day or two.  _

A quieter voice spoke up.  _ You’ll never know if it’ll work out if you don’t try.  _

He smiled grimly to himself.  _ See,  _ he thought,  _ the thing is that what if I try and it all falls apart? I don’t know if I can do that.  _

His mind flew to the look in Castiel’s eyes when Dean had finished stuttering his way through asking him out, and he felt a genuine smile flit across his face.  _ Worth a try.  _

The car door slamming shut behind him, he walked up to the house’s bright blue door, nervously running his hand through his hair. 

_ You can do this. You can and you know it.  _ He let out a shaking breath, mustering any and all scraps of courage he had left.  _ Just do it!  _ A door had never looked more daunting.  _ Just lift your arm up and knock, you idiot.  _

He slowly lifted his balled fist, and biting his lip, he gently tapped it against the wood, wincing when one knock came out louder than the rest. 

Hurried footsteps sounded from inside and Dean straightened, fidgeting with the edges of his jacket. 

“Dean!” Castiel swung the door open and he lit up, a wide smile stretching across his face. 

_ Fuck.  _ Castiel couldn’t have looked better in that moment to Dean. With mussed sex hair and a white button down shirt that showed off his shoulders, Dean almost didn’t want to even make it to lunch. 

“Hey, Cas. You ready?” 

The angel in the doorway nodded and gestured back inside. “I have just a few more things to do before we can go. Would you like to come in?”

_ Oh god.  _ Butterflies were filling Dean’s stomach in hoards.  _ What am I, a teenager girl?  _ He hadn’t had butterflies since tenth grade while he was going to Lisa’s to meet her parents. 

“Uh yeah, sure. I’ll just…” He nodded and stepped inside, scuffing his boots on the mat for a moment. He pulled the door shut gently behind him and eyed the decorations covering the hallway.  _ They all look so expensive!  _ He tucked his elbows in closer.  _ Just don’t break anything and I’ll be fine.  _

Castiel ducked back into the hallway, a tie loosely looped around his throat and a trench coat hanging over his arm.  _ How can a human being get hotter with more layers of clothing? That should not be possible.  _

Dean smiled shakily. “Okay then, ready to go?”

Castiel nodded and looped his free arm through Dean’s. “Lead on.”

* * *

Dean’s fingers tapped out a beat on the steering wheel as he pulled into the gravel parking lot of The Roadhouse. 

Castiel was silent behind him for a moment, then turned to the green-eyed man. “Are you tapping out Highway to Hell?”

“Yeah…?” 

Castiel’s eyes lit up. “I love AC/DC.”

Dean grinned, putting the car into park. “Good ‘cause otherwise I don’t think you’d be able to be in my car with me again.” 

The trench coat clad man smiled and shook his head. “Anyone who thinks differently is either a liar or is not human.”

Dean tossed his hands into the air. “Exactly! That’s what I’ve been tellin’ Sammy since the beginning.”

They clambered out of the car, doors slamming shut behind them. 

“This is my favorite place to go,” Dean said, gesturing to The Roadhouse. “Family friends and all, you know?”

Castiel nodded and straightened his jacket. “How are their burgers?”

They were almost to the doors and Dean could feel his palms beginning to sweat. He  _ really  _ wanted Cas to like this place. “Almost as good as mine.”

“And how good are yours?” Card asked, raising an eyebrow. 

The soldier grinned and ran a hand through his hair. “When I used to make them all the time, my brother said they were Heaven on Earth.”

Castiel smiled back and-  _ well, if that ain’t the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.  _

The doors slid open and a blast of heat rolled over them, the chill from outside fading away. 

A few patrons were scattered around the bar, some drowning their sorrows in whiskey, others just trying to forget. Ellen was behind the bar, the same white rag that she had time after time, in hand. 

He tossed her a small wave. “Hey Ellen.”

She strode across the room, skirting around a solitary pool player who played as if he were cursed. “Hey, Dean. What can I do for you boys?”

The green eyed man glanced to Castiel before responding. “Table for two, and uh...a burger and fries for me. Cas?”

The angel grinned. “I will have the same, please.”

Ellen slung the towel over her shoulder. “Alrighty then, coming right up.” She clapped Dean’s shoulder. “Glad to see you’re still comin’ around.” She looked back to Castiel. “Seat yourselves wherever you want, your burgers‘ll be right out.”

Dean gave her a nod and she headed back to the bar, only pausing to shake a customer awake before he could slide off his stool. 

Castiel glanced around the room. “Wherever you would like to sit is fine by me.”

“By the back wall, then?”

The blue eyed man smiled. “Sure.” 

Dean nodded again and stuffed his hands into his pockets, making his way across the room. Cas followed, steps sounding - _ hesitantly? God, I shouldn’t have taken him  _ here  _ for lunch. Shit. I’m taking a fucking  _ angel  _ out to eat at a fucking bar.  _

The soldier paused and Castiel moved to his side, gaze switching between the few sets of two-person tables and Dean’s green eyes. 

_ I can’t do this. Why am I doing this?  _ He was spiraling, shaking, he could hear his dad’s voice in his head, ranting about how ‘ _ Those fags are at it again! Trying to get rights they gave away the moment they started thinking like that,’  _ and he could feel the walls closing in, shame and anger and HATRED and he couldn’t breath, hecouldn’tbreath HE COULDN’T BREATH and oh god what was he thinking, trying to be someone like this, trying to prove his dad wrong because he was right, he was right,  _ hewasrightohgodhewasright _

A hand gently wrapped itself around his elbow and his thoughts paused, his eyes latching on to the long, slender fingers, connected to a wrist covered in a trench coat sleeve. His gaze moved up, tracing a stubbled jaw, slightly chapped lips that looked perfect for kissing, before slowly meeting the bright blue eyes that watched him. 

“Dean.” His gravely voice was filled with concern. “Are you alright?”

“I-I…yeah. I’m good.” His voice shook on the last word. 

“Dean, if you don’t want to do this, all you have to do is say so. I will be okay.”

The soldier’s head jerked back up. “No, of course I want to do this,” he said, insistence coloring every word. “I’m really sorry, I...I don’t know what my brother has said about me and my family but…” He shrugged minutely. “My dad wasn’t the most accepting and it’s kinda stayed with me.”

Castiel frowned. “I understand. Mine were not the best, either.”

The taller man nodded and gestured to the table. “Wanna sit down?”

Cas smiled and moved toward the nearest seat, only for Dean to move in front of him. “What are you- oh.”

Dean pulled the chair out, gesturing for Cas to sit. “If I’m gonna take you out on a date, I’ll do it like a gentleman.”  _ You look like an idiot.  _

The other man smiled, his eyes shining slightly. “Thank you, Dean.” 

_ I’ll look like an idiot for that expression on his face, though.  _

Dean dropped into the other seat, scooting closer to the table. “So… what do you like to do for fun?”

A date had never responded so quickly. “People watching.”

“People watching?”

The angel nodded rigorously. “It’s actually quite interesting. See, I’ll go sit on a park bench and watch people walk by, couples and families, all lost in their own little world. I make up stories for each of them, depending on what they’re doing. This one time, a few years ago…”

Dean watched as Castiel practically glowed, hands flying through the air and expressions changing to mimic each person.  _ I could watch this all day.  _

The angel looked like he’d rather be doing nothing else, and Dean had to agree. Cas was gorgeous as smiles and laughter danced their way across his face, gaze bright while reciting story after story. 

The blue-eyed man was right in the middle of retelling an encounter he had had with a particularly demanding pigeon, when two plates were plunked down between them. 

“Here you go boys.” Ellen paused, hands on her hips as she glanced between them. “It’s on the house tonight.”

“Ellen, I ca-”

“Just tell your brother to come by more often, ‘kay?”

Dean sagged in his seat, the tone of her voice telling him she wasn’t gonna budge. “Alright.”

“Good.” Ellen nodded to Dean and turned back to the kitchen, stopping to bark orders at a brunette girl behind the bar. 

Dean looked back to Castiel, who was watching him with a peculiar look on his face. 

“What?”

Castiel frowned slightly. “Why do you not let people help you?” He narrowed his eyes. “You don’t think you deserve it? But...you do, Dean. You do deserve help.”

The soldier shifted in his seat. “Cas, I-I didn’t really wanna talk to you about this, ‘least not on the first date. Cas… I’m a soldier, I’ve killed people.  _ Innocent  _ people.”

“For your survival.” The conviction in the other man’s voice almost broke Dean. 

“Yeah, but-”

“No, Dean. It was either you or them. You did what any person would do. You chose to come home.”

Dean’s voice shook as he responded. “And they didn’t, because of  _ my  _ choice.” 

“Dean.” The green-eyed man looked up as Castiel took his hand. “I’m sure that they forgive you.” 

Dean shook his head, a weak chuckle falling from his mouth. “Well, now that we’ve gotten through most of my baggage, you still wanna go on a second date with me?”

“What?” Dean glanced up from where he had been picking at his burger. Castiel’s eyes were wide, filled with confusion.  _ Of course. God, I’m such an idiot.  _ “Of course, Dean.”  _ What?  _ “I said yes to a first date for a reason.”  _ ‘Cause I’m pathetic.  _ “Because a gorgeous man walked up to me at work, a man who has all the confidence and swagger possible, and then proceeded to fumble his way through asking me out.”

“I looked like an idiot.”

Castiel arched an eyebrow. “An adorable idiot.”

Dean looked back down at his plate. “So…you willin’ to give this another shot?”

“With you?” Cas grinned. “Any day.” 

The rest of lunch passed smoothly, with Castiel resuming his chatter, Dean listening silently as every contribution of bees were thoroughly explained to him. He couldn’t have been happier. 

Dean got the check, leaving the largest tip he had ever paid, as far as his memory went, and they left the bar together, Dean’s arm wrapped around Castiel’s waist. 

* * *

The impala puttered quietly as they pulled up to Castiel’s house, the garden still beautiful even in the midst of the California winter. 

“It was really nice going out with you,” Cas said, eyes fixed on Dean. “I hope we can do this again.”

“Y-Yeah. Right.”

“What?”

Dean winced, fingers tapping the steering wheel. “I’m only off on leave for a day or two more. I don’t know if I’ve got the time.”

Castiel’s smile looked so sad that it had Dean’s mind already reaching for solutions. 

“It’s oka-”

“My brother might have a Christmas dinner before I leave. Would you wanna come to that instead?” Dean almost regretted his impulsive request but the look in the other man’s eyes stopped him. 

“I would love that!”

The soldier smiled widely and before he could think twice about it, leaned over and pressed a kiss to Castiel’s lips. 

It started and ended in the space of a second, and yet it felt like hours to Dean. Just a soft brush of his lips against Castiel’s, but it was like a taste of heaven. 

Dean pulled back to see Castiel’s face, who’s eyes were wide and his face was slack.  _ Oh god.  _ “I’m so sor-”

He was cut off by the other’s hand sneaking around to slide into his hair, and he was yanked back to Cas, the black haired man firmly kissing him back. They parted with a gasp and Dean smiled at the faint blush covering Castiel’s cheeks.  _ I put that there.  _

“Until next time?” Cas asked, his lips-  _ his beautiful, beautiful, lips  _ -curling up at the edges. 

“Yeah. Until next time.” Dean couldn’t resist leaning forward one last time, pressing another kiss to Castiel’s mouth before he could climb out of the car. 

Cas grinned again and Dean could’ve died right then and there if that was the last thing he saw. Then Castiel was climbing out of the car, walking those few steps to his door, glancing back at Dean every few seconds or so with that  _ look  _ in his eyes and on his face. And Cas was inside and Dean was still sitting in his car, just marveling over what he’d just done. 

_ I did it. I actually did it.  _ He felt like crying and laughing, although hopefully not at the same time.  _ I went on a date with an angel, and the angel wants to go on another date.  _ If he was smiling any larger, his face would’ve split in half.  _ Take that, you sonavabitch! See that, Dad? I did it. I  _ did  _ it.  _

Revving the engine, Dean began to drive back to the motel he was staying at, and even the thought of his tiny room and the crappy bathroom that came with it couldn’t dampen dampen his mood. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey ya'll, I'm sorry. I really suck at updating unless I've already written it. So...here's the fourth chapter? There's probably only gonna be one more after this one. Really fucking sorry that I'm so lazy.
> 
> Leave kudos and comments please! (I love to know what people think, and constructive criticism is welcomed) 
> 
> Trigger warning: the gay f-word again(sorry!), and mentions of child abuse?

It had only been a couple days since that date with the blue-eyed angel Dean had somehow managed to snag, and now he had to go back.  _ Tomorrow.  _ He still hadn’t told his brother, he couldn’t do that to him. Not on Christmas Eve. 

Castiel knew something was up, with the way that Dean stiffened up at every mention of the upcoming holiday, but he wasn’t pushing. And Dean couldn’t be more grateful. 

So here he sat, on a sagging bed in one of the shittiest motels he’d ever stayed at in his entire life, his phone clutched in his hand, staring at the bright screen.  _ If I just call Dad now, just leave a voicemail, I won’t have to talk to him again. Not until I’m on leave again. One little sentence.  _ He’d give anything to have a decent excuse to not make the call.  _ I can do it. Ten seconds of talking to him, and that’s it.  _

A few taps later and his finger was hovering over the call button, his dad’s face staring up at him from the contact picture. He pulled in a shuddering breath and as fast as he could, as if it would make it be over sooner, he pressed the green emblem. 

A ringtone filled the air, the ‘calling’ symbol blinking on his screen. A few rings in and Dean could feel himself slowly relaxing.  _ He’s not gonna pick up.  _

A click and, “Hello?” 

Dean froze, the blood draining from his face as he stared at the mobile in his hand.  _ His voice hasn’t changed a bit.  _

“Hello?” Annoyance was lacing John’s tone now. “If whoever is on the other end ain’t gonna talk, then I’m gonna hang up.” His voice was slurring at the end of each word and Dean unconsciously pulled his shoulders in, head ducked as if to avoid attention. “Hello?”

“H-Hey,” Dean replied, voice shaking slightly. 

“Who the hell is this?” John’s gruff voice was bringing back memories, things that Dean had buried, that he had stuffed away.

“It’s me, Dad. It’s Dean.”

“Dean.”

The soldier almost flinched at the flat note in his dad’s voice.  _ Man up! You’re in a different fucking state, you’re twenty six. You aren’t some stupid little kid anymore.  _ “Yeah. Just calling to say...Merry Christmas I guess.”  _ As if he cares about Christmas.  _ “And to let you know I’m not dead yet.”

“You stayin’?” If Dean didn’t know him better, he’d say his dad sounded hopeful. 

“No. Heading back tomorrow.”

John made a noncommittal noise and Dean could see that one short nod he’d always do. “You thinking ‘bout settling down sometime? Find a nice wife and have some kids?”

_ Might not be a wife, Dad.  _ “I’m only twenty six. I’ve still got time.” His empty hand was clenching and unclenching on the hem of his shirt. “I gotta go, gotta pack back up.”

“You know when you’ll be back again? Maybe we can meet up and grab a beer or two.”  _ Or three or seven. No fucking way am I going out drinking with you.  _

“No. Bye.” Dean ended the call before John could say another word, then tossed the phone behind him, burying his face in his hands. 

His stomach was churning, memories of him and his dad flitting through his head.

_ Dad with his arm slung over Dean’s shoulder, teasing him about only liking strawberry ice cream. Dad holding Sam for the first time, Dean jumping up and down at his side. Dad dropping him off at his first day of fifth grade, without even a pat on the shoulder, before turning to Sam and telling him to have a great day. Sam waving to Dean from the school stage, excited someone came to see him in the play. Dad staggering in drunk, shouting incoherently as Dean guided him to the couch. Dad lashing out, pinning Dean to the dinner table in one move, because ‘no son of his was gonna disrespect him.’ Dean telling Sam to go upstairs as Dad began another tyrade on how ‘those faggots were trying to destroy their country’.  _

Even if his dad was trying to reconnect, there was no way Dean was. He couldn’t go through all of that again. 

He had no idea how long he remained in the position but by the time he straightened up, his neck was aching from the hunched position.  _ Shit.  _ He knew in the back of his head that he needed to tell his brother, to tell  _ Cas,  _ that tonight was the last time he’d be sitting in this motel, that he was leaving Christmas morning, but who does that? Who just calls someone and tells them that? 

He could already hear Sam’s voice, heavy and slow, or worse, hiding the excitement that he wouldn’t have to deal with his dumbass older brother anymore. 

But how would Cas react? A smile maybe? A sad one, that he wouldn’t see him for probably years, or a happy one, that he was finally rid of one more broken relationship. 

_ Fuck.  _ He had to tell them, if only so they wouldn’t be pissed at him when he came back. Holding in a sigh, he picked up his phone again, before setting it back down.  _ They deserve to be told face-to-face.  _

He clambered off the bed slowly, as if if he stalled long enough, the problem would just go away. He had to scour the room to find his boots, tossed aimlessly under his bed, and he blamed himself for that. If he hadn’t still been floating on a cloud yesterday, he would've known where they were immediately. 

By the time he was climbing into the impala, he had already wasted five or so minutes, and his hands were no less sweaty. Turning the key to start the car was harder than anything else, or at least it felt like that, his hand shaking too hard to grip it, the key not turning when he finally managed to hold on to it. He almost just got out of his car and went back inside. Only the thought that he’d look like a  _ goddamned idiot  _ climbing out of the car seconds after he climbed in, stopped him. 

* * *

He went to Cas first. If Sam reacted badly before he told Cas, Dean knew he wouldn’t have the balls to talk to the blue eyed angel. Even still, stepping out of his car after he pulled up at the blue painted door, was the hardest thing he’d ever done. 

His hands fisted at his sides, he walked up the steps, unconsciously straightening as he went. He slowly extended an arm and then paused.  _ My hand is shaking _ . He felt like he was looking at the world through a haze. This could be the last time he gets to see Cas. 

The only person he ever fell in love with, and this might be goodbye. 

He sucked in a breath and gently tapped his knuckles against the wood. The pattering of footsteps on hardwood floor sounded and moments later the door was swinging open, Castiel’s smiling face looking up at him. 

“Dean!” The happiness in the shorter man’s voice almost broke him. 

“Hey, Cas. Can...can I come in?” 

“Of course.” Cas stepped back, gesturing across the threshold. “Make yourself at home.” He grinned and Dean smiled shakily back. 

The smaller man led him to a comfortable looking living room, paintings and framed drawings covering the walls, with two cushy armchairs on either side of a fireplace, facing the soft blue couch that rested on the other side of a coffee table. The domestic ness of the room almost startled Dean, his mind already falling back to small cots and duffles stored beneath them. 

He settled himself into one of the impossibly comfortable chairs and sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “So…” He began. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this for a bit, but uh...I couldn’t. I…” He sucked in a deep breath.

“Dean.” The green-eyed man glanced up from where he’d been staring at his clasped hands. Castiel was staring at him, eyebrows scrunched up and lowered. “You don’t have to be scared to tell me this.”

“I-yeah, I know.” He had begun to shake again. “The thing is...I have to go back.” He dropped his gaze again. “Tomorrow morning, I’ve got a flight to Florida, where I’m gonna take a transfer flight back to Afghanistan. I...I have no idea when I’m gonna be comin’ back.”

“Dean.” Cas’ voice broke in the middle of his name.”Why didn’t you want to tell me?” 

The soldier stood, stuffing his now trembling hands into his pockets. “I-” He ran his hand through his hair. “I didn’t...look Cas, people just. They just leave me. They die, or they move away, like  _ Sammy,  _ and they don’t usually come back. I...I need you, Cas. I need you.”

Cas gaped back at him, his hands slack at his sides. Dean turned away, running a hand over his face, and it came away wet.  _ I...I’m crying,  _ he thought distantly.  _ Why am I crying?  _ He tried to swallow but his chest was too tight and the lump in his throat had grown, leaving him to let out a choked gasp, it sounding as if it had been dragged out of him by a hook. 

Arms wrapped around him suddenly and he stiffened, only to relax and let the warmth radiating from the man behind him seep in. 

“Dean.” The shorter man’s voice was muffled from resting his face against Dean’s back. “I won’t leave you. I will stay right here until you come home. Okay?”

Castiel moved and Dean sagged at the loss of contact, before he was back, his trenchcoat clad figure positioning itself so that his black ruffled hair fit right under Dean’s chin. “I’m not leaving you.” 

Cas pulled back and Dean watched, eyes wary. The angel slowly lifted a hand, fingers shaking as he moved, and gently brushed his thumb over the trails of tears that ran down Dean’s cheeks, wiping the wetness away. The soldier could barely breathe, let alone speak, as Castiel lifted himself onto his tip-toes, pressing a gentle kiss under each of Dean’s eyes. “I swear,” he said, his low voice full of conviction, “I will save you, Dean Winchester.”

Dean opened his mouth to speak but only a soft sound came out. Instead he slid one hand into the god- _ blessed  _ sexy hair, and moving forward slowly, he backed Castiel to the edge of the room, pressed the other man against the wall, and kissed him. 

At first, Cas didn’t react and Dean almost backed off, because  _ oh god he had messed up, and Cas was just lying and howcouldhehavemessedthisup-  _ but then the shorter man was kissing him back, his hand coming up to tangle his fingers in the soldier’s short hair. Castiel tugged lightly on the brunet’s hair and Dean bit back a short moan, before stepping back.

“I-I’m so sorry. I have to tell Sammy. I’ll come back before I leave, okay? I promise.”

Cas gave him a sad smile, and all Dean could think of from the expression on his face was  _ love.  _ “I’ll wait for you.” 

Dean felt his lips curl up on the edges. “I know.”

The purr of the impala’s engine faded too quickly from the sunny street, leaving a blue eyed man standing in his doorway, eyes still following the path the car had gone.

* * *

Striding down the hallway to Sam’s apartment, Dean couldn’t help but remember the first time he’d done it. He had begun to shake again, an adrenaline burst kicking in, just like last time, he looked up and found himself eye to eye with Sam’s door.  _ Well, here goes nothin’.  _

He had barely knocked when the door was pulled open, Sam’s sheepish face appearing above him. “Hey Dean. I-can we talk?”

Dean nodded minutely, already preparing himself for some speech about how he had reacted to Sam in the coffee shop, maybe Sam would hand him some stupid pamphlet for PTSD shrinks that he wanted Dean to go visit. But when he followed Sam into the living room, he found Luke and Jo there too, hunched together on the couch. 

“Uh...did I miss the memo? Should I have brought my plus two?”

Sam shook his head, shooting a glare at the two of his friends. “No.” His voice was controlled, but Dean could hear the tremble of anger underneath it. It was the same tone. He used every time Dean walked back upstairs after some argument with Dad. “Jo and Luke have something to say to you.” 

Jo straightened and opened her mouth to speak, but Luke beat her to it. “Dean, we are so sorry for the way we acted the last time you saw us. We went out, took a couple shots, and had the bright idea to come staggering back in here to say hello again. It was stupid, we feel like shit in more ways than one, and we hope you can forgive us.” 

The apology was very obviously practiced, probably thought over again and again - _ probably ‘cause Sammy scared the shit out of them-  _ but Luke and Jo looked so regretful, even if it was most likely because Sam had yelled at them until his voice gave out, that Dean couldn’t help but let a little chuckle slip out.

“Shit, Sammy. What’d you do?” He turned back to the two college students on the couch. “It’s fine. I’m fine, we’re fine. No harm done.” 

Sam shook his head. “De-”

“Hey, can I talk to you in private?”

Sam raised his eyebrows but nodded, gesturing for Dean to follow him as he led him to one of the bedrooms that branched off from the hallway. Clicking the door shut behind him, Dean turned to face Sam. Sam was standing, one eyebrow cocked inquisitively. “What do you wanna talk about?”

Dean braced himself like he was about to dive into ice cold water, and spoke. “I’m going back. Tomorrow. I’ve got a flight that leaves at five in the morning. I don’t-“ His voice cracked. “I don’t know when I’ll get to come back.”

Time seemed to freeze as Sam processed that. “W-What…?”

It wasn’t the voice of a full-ride Stanford college student who responded. It wasn’t the voice of the teenager who had first said goodbye to Dean, still angry at the world for making him leave. It was the voice of a scared little brother, the one that Sam had pushed to the back of his mind since Dean left. It was the voice of the little boy who had been terrified of clowns, who had hated licorice, who had squished the spiders for Dean. It was Sammy. 

Dean stepped forward, wrapping his arms around the giant his Sammy had turned into, and pressed a kiss to the side of his brother’s head. Sammy’s flannel clad shoulders were heaving, and he pushed his face into the crook of his older brother’s neck. 

“Hey.” Dean’s voice was unusually soft. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“No...no it won’t.” Sam’s words were shaking, warbling with the force of his tears. “You’re just leaving again.”

“I’ll come back, I promise.”

His little brother’s response was quick, obviously thought again and again. “What if you come back in a box? What if this is the last time I see you?”

Dean smiled, closing his eyes against the pain in his chest. “I’ll come back whole and alive, I swear. Where else am I supposed to get such good pie, huh?” 

Sam let out a breathy laugh, more of a sob than anything else. “What about Mom’s?”

“No one can beat Mom’s. Why do you think I really gotta come back? So that you still getta eat pie like Mom’s.”

He felt Sam smile shakily against his skin and then pull back. “You wanna hang out a bit before you gotta go?” 

“For a bit, sure. But I promised a certain someone that I was gonna be back before I left.” He raised an eyebrow. “Can I trust you with the impala this time? I don’t want to have to leave my Baby in some storage building again.”

“Do I get to drive?” Sam still looked like a mess, but he had stopped blinking back tears.  _ God, I’ll miss him. _

Dean smirked. “If you mess with my Baby before I get back, I swear when I die, I will haunt your ass.”

“Can I play better music?”

“What?” The older brother narrowed his eyes in mock anger. “AC/DC and Metallica are the greatest artists of all time!”

Sam tipped his head back, a short chuckle escaping him. It was as if his little brother was holding himself together. For Dean. “Yeah, thirty years ago.”

“How dare you!” He scooped up one of the pillows sitting on the bed and hurled it at Sam. “You take that back, or no Mom’s pie for you.”

Dean picked up another pillow and Sam squawked, his arms covering his face in self-defense. “Okay, okay! I take it back.”

“That’s what I thought.” His lips quirked up on one side of his mouth as he dropped the pillow. “Bitch.”

Sam shook his head, opening the door and stepping back into the hallway. “Jerk.”

Dean followed him out, a small smile still on his lips. Sam had settled on to the floor, leaning against the couch that was now occupied by a grinning Jess. He could hear someone bustling around the kitchen, bottles and glasses clinking, and he could only hope it was Luke grabbing a beer or two. 

He slid into one of the beat up armchairs that filled the remaining space of the living room, stretching his booted feet out in front of him. 

“So…” Sam began, running a hand through his hair, and Dean held his breath, waiting to hear some stupid question like if he’d called Dad yet, or if he wanted Sam to walk him through the airport but- “Who’s the certain someone?”

Dean lifted his head. “What?”

“You know,” Sam continued. “The certain someone you promised that you’re gonna go back to before you leave.”

“Uh…it’s Cas,” he mumbled. 

“It’s who?” 

Dean knew that Sam could hear him perfectly well. He narrowed his eyes. “Cas. Castiel?”

Jo let out a shout and pumped her fist in the air. “I knew it! Didn’t I tell you Sam, huh? They are perfect together!”

“Shut up Jo!” Sam was rolling his eyes but smiling. 

“Yeah,” Luke agreed, exiting the kitchen with a bottle in one hand and a plate in the other. “Shut up Jo.”

She glared. “You know you agreed with me.”

Luke shook his head, a cocky smile titling his lips. “Maybe deep down inside, but I still hold hope that Sam’s hunky brother might fall for me instead.” He winked at Dean and sat cross legged next to Sam. “Hungry?”  He offered the plate to the soldier. 

Dean wrinkled his nose. “What the  _ fuck  _ is that?”

“Peanut butter and banana sandwich, of course.”

“That is disgusting.”

Luke let out a gasp and pressed his hand over his heart, Sam snorting as he watched. “What happened to you when you were a child?”

The older brother smirked. “Nothin’. I just have taste buds, that’s all.”

Luke whirled to face Sam. “Please tell me that you don’t side with this disgrace to our society.”

“Never,” he said, grinning back. “I tried to fix him... but it was too late. He’d already fallen in love with licorice.”

Luke shook his head and began to shove the sandwich into his mouth, crumbs spraying as he tried to still talk. 

“Luke.” Jess had sat up and was watching her friend with a mix of disgust and amazement on her face. “How are you able to eat half a sandwich at once?”

The older student smiled and swallowed, an audible gulp that Jess and Sam winced at. “It’s a talent.” 

Sam cleared his throat and turned to look at Dean more fully. “You got a ride to the airport?” 

The soldier froze. “Uh...I’m just gonna call a cab.”

“What?” Jo’s voice was incredulous. “You think we’re gonna give up a chance to hear more embarrassing stories about Sam, just ‘cause you wanna call a cab? Hell no, I’ll drive you there myself.”

There was an instant clamor of reassurances from her fellow roommates, that  _ no, she didn’t have to be the driver,  _ and  _ yes, they were sure.  _

Luke leaned towards Dean, a spark in his eyes. “She drives like a maniac that’s running from the police. Like a very drunk maniac.” He shuddered. “After the Unspeakable Incident of ‘00, she isn’t allowed to drive anymore.” 

“...the Unspeakable Incident of ‘00…? Wha-”

  
  


Jess leaned forward, slashing her hand in a line through the air. “We don’t speak of it.” 

“Anyway!” Sam interrupted as Dean opened his mouth to respond. “We’ll give you a ride there, okay?”

“I...yeah, okay. I gotta go.” He glanced towards the door, the memory of his promise to Cas resurfacing. 

Sam nodded. “Yeah, I’ll see you. Do you want us to pick you up tomorrow?” 

Dean hesitated, his words stuck in his throat.  _ Fuck.  _ “I’ll...call you.” 

  
At his brother’s second nod of understanding, he was up and out of his seat, striding to the door, ignoring the wolf whistle from Luke and the  _ You can just call in the morning!  _ from Jo. Hurrying down the steps of the building, he found himself scrambling to pull his keys from his pocket.  _ I’m acting like a lovesick teenage girl.  _ The butterflies were back and he could feel his hands beginning to shake. He hadn’t felt like this since his first time kissing a boy. It had only lasted for a moment, the feeling and the boy, but this time he was gonna make it last. As long as he possibly could. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If ya'll could please recommend some good supernatural domestic fluff or some shit 'cause I really need to read some stuff like that.


	5. Chapter 5

Hey so I’m so sorry I suck at updated (to those six people who like this crappy fanfic)

ive been lazy and idk how to start the next chapter and I’ve been scouring ao3 for a very specific Clint Barton Recruitment fanfic that was absolutely amazing and I can’t find it anywhere. 

so...it’s like 12 chapters (or smth) and Clint has a really rare colorblind conditions where he only can really see blue, like he has an over abundance over blue thingies in his eyes, and usually anyone with this is legally blind but instead for him he can see like 30 feet to the ground and watch the bugs crawling. 

he’s a mercenary before SHIELD recruits him and he goes by The Archer. When he’s down at the shooting range the dude who oversees it makes a comment to Coulson about how only The Archer could ever shoot like that and then proceeds to have a mental breakdown as he figures out just who’s in his range. 

at some point him and a bunch of other recruits do training exercises, and they play paintball. He plays with a gun at first but then gets a bow and proceeds to have to prove that he can really use it. A few other recruits ask ‘if it really came down to it, could you take the shot?’ He says yes with no hesitation and that’s when the rest of them figure out he’s a former mercenary. 

uh that’s all I really remember? Please please please lmk if you find this, I don’t care if it’s been like ten years since I posted this chapter (author note?). 

i love this fic so much please lmk!!!

thanks,

-gunpowder_and_pearls


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey y’all, last chapter! 
> 
> Let me know if you want me to continue the series or if there’s anything you want to read!
> 
> Also.  
I am taking requests for Hawkeye oneshots if there’s some stuff you want to read but not write (I understand the feeling)
> 
> Leave kudos and comments if you like it!

The drive back to Cas’ house took far too long for only a few short blocks. Dean couldn’t stop thinking about the smile that had graced the other man’s face as he left. Castiel was perfect and Dean loved him so-

_ Fuck. _

The soldier’s hands tightened on the steering wheel and he clenched his teeth. _ I...I love Cas. I love a man...who I have only gone on a date with three times. I fell in love. Oh god. _

He could remember the very first girl he kissed, the way his hands slid so easily through the blonde hair she’d hated, but he couldn’t remember her name or the color of her eyes. Hell, he didn’t even know how long they had ‘dated’. 

But with Cas, it was different. He could picture the stubble that covered the blue-eyed man’s jaw, clear as day. He knew Cas’ favorite living thing-_ bees- _ , he knew what he had dreamed of being as a kid- _ an astronaut or a comic book writer- _ , he even knew what Cas was allergic to- _ strawberries and pecans, but any other kind of nut was fine _. 

And for once, he wanted it to stay that way. When he’d been in high school, the only thing he had wanted was to make-out in the janitors closet. Now, he’d caught himself imagining what it’d be like to come home to Cas, swinging open the door and pulling his shoes off to dump them next to it, right in the pile of everyone else’s. When he was feeling particularly optimistic he’d added in drawings taped to the fridge and tiny jackets strewn on the floor. 

For _ once, _he knew exactly what he wanted to end up like. And it terrified him. 

* * *

Climbing out of the impala was just as hard as it had been the first time, if not worse. This time, he wouldn’t get to come by the next day and knock on Cas’ door. He hesitated, hands flexing at his sides. _ Fuck it. _

Boots barely making any sound, he headed up the steps, stuffing his keys back inside his pocket and tightening his grip on his bag as he did. 

Dean sucked in a breath and slowly let it back out, unconsciously straightening his spine and lifting his chin. Another slow breath and he was knocking on the door. He didn’t have to wait long. Cas swung the door open almost immediately and Dean felt all the air whoosh right out of him.

The shorter man had taken off his trench coat at some point and rolled his sleeves to his elbows and- _ no one has the right to have fucking _ forearms _ that are sexy. _Cas’ tie was askew, loose like it always was, and he was barefoot, although there wasn’t a single wrinkle on the crisp button-down he always wore. 

Dean swallowed, running his eyes up and down Cas. _ I am so fucked. _

“Hey…” He ran a hand through his hair self-consciously. “I’m back.” 

The other man stepped back, gesturing past himself. “Would you like to come inside?”

The soldier nodded slowly and followed Cas inside, kicking his boots off at the door and dropping his duffle next to them. By the time his jacket was off and hanging up, Cas had already made it to the kitchen, and from the smell wafting down the hallway, he was baking. 

“That better be pie I’m smellin’. Otherwise, I’ll have to do somethin’ about that.”

Castiel chuckled and Dean smiled at the sound, walking into the kitchen. Cas was up to his elbows in flour, a pie tin and a mound of apples sitting next to the dough he was currently kneading. 

“You’re actually making pie?”

Cas gave him a small shake smile. “Is that alright with you? I know you might have wanted to hang out more but I remembered how much you liked the pie back at the bakery…” He trailed off, a blush rising in his cheeks. 

Dean was quick to reassure the- _ gorgeous, perfect, adorable _ \- other man. “No, no! It’s okay. I get pie at the end. And it’s always better homemade too.” He winked at Cas. _ And I getta watch those shoulders and hands at work. _

Dean must’ve spaced out watching Cas, because by the time he was forming coherent thoughts again and not shifting awkwardly in his chair, the pie tin had disappeared and the oven was off. 

The soldier watched as Cas finished wiping down the counters and wringing the towel dry before standing. He crossed the room in three quick strides and stopped right in front of the blue-eyed man who was currently frozen, staring up at him. Dean reached out slowly and brushed his fingers along Cas’ stubbled jaw, then gently tilted the other man’s head and bent, pressing a kiss to his lips. 

He paused. “Is this okay?” 

“God yes.” 

The roughness of Cas’ voice was like a pure adrenaline shot to Dean. He surged forward, looping his arms around Cas’ waist and pushed him against the cabinets, only to let out a groan as the shorter man nipped at his lower lip. 

“Fuck…” Dean drew the word out as he tipped his head back, giving Cas better access to his neck, and shuddered when the other man flipped them, Dean now pinned to the wall. 

Cas pulled back for a moment, one hand now tangled in Dean’s hair, the other resting on Dean’s stomach, and raised an eyebrow. “You like that?” Dean could only manage a slight nod at the sight of Cas, hair disheveled and lips slightly swollen from all the kissing. “Good.” 

Dean shuddered again and pushed Cas away when he began to mouth along his jaw. “Hey...wait a second, okay?”

The other man was immediately backing up, his hands pulling away so fast it was like he’d been burned. “Did I do something wrong? I am so sorry, I’m not very experienced with...this.” He stuttered out the apology so fast that if Dean hadn’t been listening so closely, he wouldn’t have understood it. 

When the words finally processed Dean stared. “Y-You haven’t done this very much…?” _ Jesus Christ. He is fucking amazing. _“Damn.” 

Cas wrung his hands and took another step back. “I am sorry. Would you like a piece of pie before you leave?” 

“What?” _ Leave? _“No, I’m not leaving, Cas. I just...this is our last night together and I wanted...I dunno, for it to not just be a hook-up? Like don’t get me wrong, that’d be amazing...I...I just wanted this to be different, you know?” 

The other man nodded and Dean smiled. “Couch?” 

Cas grinned back and lead the way to the living room- _ those goddamn pants _-, Dean following close behind. 

* * *

They’d ended up watching The Lion King after Castiel’s outrage at the inaccuracy of The Bee Movie. They had finished it with _ no tears shed, _no matter the video proof and tissues stuffed in Dean’s pockets. 

They’d only made it halfway through Cinderella before Cas’ eyes slid closed and he slumped against Dean, resting his head on the bigger man’s shoulder. 

Dean had been watching the clock that rested on the mantle count down for over an hour. He’d called a cab earlier and asked if they could pick him up at around one. He only had ten minutes or so before he had to go. 

He shifted, grabbing a pillow and slipping it under Cas’ head before standing, smiling when Cas latched on to it. 

“Oh god, Cas.” His voice broke and standing there, in the darkened room hours before the sun would even begin to peek above the horizon, he could feel the familiar feeling of loneliness dettling itself in his stomach. “I’m...so sorry.” 

He bent and pressed a kiss to the sleeping man’s hairline, brushing his fingers against his cheek, and straightened up. 

It took a matter of minutes for him to pull on his fatigues and lace his boots back up. He was halfway through pulling the door open when he hesitated. 

“I love you.”

Then the door was swinging shut, the only thing to show he was ever there was the keys still hanging on the hook where his jacket had been. 

* * *

Dean had managed to shoot off a quick text to Sam, letting him know ‘he didn’t need a ride and to not come and get him’, before the plane’s engines started rumbling. 

Then they were roaring down the tarmac and then lifting off, Dean pressing his head into the back of his chair and clenching the armrests. 

When they finally leveled out Dean risked a glance out the window. He could barely see the fast fading landmass of the US and he closed his eyes again. 

_ Maybe, _ he thought, _ maybe next time I call them I’ll get to say that I’m coming home. _


End file.
